Before I get into this post, how many people noticed that, in the last paragraph of yesterday’s post, I initially said we’d be boarding the Royal Princess instead of the Ruby Princess in LA on Tuesday? Haha...are you really ready for another season of typos, grammatical fails and all around mental gaffes? Seriously, the wrong ship? That’s pretty bad, even by my remarkably low editing standards. It reminds me of our second cruise, a transatlantic on the Celebrity Century. G had returned home from his duty station late the night before, packed in his sleep and we caught an early flight out the day the cruise departed. In the dining room the first night, we were seated with three couples much more traveled than we were. They were talking about the cruises they’d done and G asked, “Wait, what ship are we on?” (He also had no idea what ports we’d be visiting.) He’s improved considerably over our cruising career; apparently, I have regressed.
Ok, back to our regularly scheduled programming...
I’ve re-written parts of this post three times. I don’t want to be to appear too dramatic or whiny, but, good grief, this truly was a *Horrible Summer (props to Janet Burkhead for this title). It wasn’t as scary as The Summer of no Fun, but it was a heckuva lot harder...for both G and I. In fact, if it hadn’t been for the heat, I wouldn’t have realized it even was summer. Thankfully though, our months at home started out wonderfully, and the memory of them, and thoughts of what is to come kept us going.
Like every year, I visited Mom in Ohio for a week (this year over Mother’s Day, my favorite time to visit). I love seeing her, and am so proud of the way she is living her best life. I also enjoy visiting with her fellow residents each year; it really is a bit like going home, giving and getting hugs as I make my way around the campus. Such a great place to live! And I had a couple of stays with my guys while their parents were out of town. I cherished those times, too; they turn 16 next week and I have a feeling that, now that they’re driving on their own, they will happily forego being served their favorite meals and waited on hand and foot in lieu of being home alone without adult supervision in the very near future. Maybe I’ll have one more year of teen-sitting. Possibly.
We were also making great progress on getting things done around the house. Cabinets, closets and drawers were cleaned and straightened while it was still cold out, loose electrical outlets were replaced, windows and screens were washed...in fact, I remember thinking we were accomplishing so much that we might even have a more leisurely summer.
Actually, as it turned out, I had a ridiculously leisurely summer; G definitely did not. In a nutshell, here’s the cause of our Aestas Horribilis. 27 years ago I suffered the worst foot injury my surgeon has seen in his 30 years of practice (you might recall me complaining about “that” foot in the past). After seven surgeries in the 1990s, I felt lucky I could even walk, albeit with a constant level of discomfort to which I had become well accustomed. However, from the moment we de-planed in London last year, that pain level ratcheted up dramatically, so much so that we even discussed returning home after our first cruise. Luckily, I travel with Coban, and each morning I would wrap that foot tightly, shove it into a sneaker and head off the ship. It didn’t seem to be making it worse, and by the time we were in Hawaii, it felt a bit better. It wasn’t until the snow at home melted - that would have been sometime in May 😆- and I got busier outside that it flared again.
I made an appointment in late May with the same surgeon who’s been with me since the day of my initial injury, thinking I just needed a new pair of orthotics. Even when he ordered an MRI, I wasn’t worried. Surely a cortisone shot along with new orthotics would have me on my way. Imagine my shock when he informed me I had multiple issues, the result of the major biomechanical changes and adaptations in the foot. After all, an entire joint was fused in 1994; it’s safe to say no one else in the world walks quite like me. As my surgeon was running through the lengthy list of what corrective procedures my foot required, I was mentally adding up the weeks I’d be non weight bearing. He told me at least six, but I can’t be fooled. It still amazes me that hips can be replaced, knees replaced, broken femurs secured with internal rods and patients are up and putting some weight on them the next day. But not feet. Nothing has you on your back as long as a foot. When they finally perfect the foot replacement, I have already placed an order for two (size 7, please, instead of the boats I currently have!).
Reconstruction surgery took place the first day of summer, and left me with an incision covered Frankenstein foot held together with 63 staples. In the end, I was non weight bearing in a cast for seven weeks, spent an additional two weeks non weight bearing in a boot and another two weeks partial weight bearing but still in the boot. The last two weeks have found me alternating between the boot with no crutches or a shoe with one or two crutches, depending on my level of discomfort. This was far from my longest post-surgical recovery, but, as I watched our trip countdown get smaller and smaller, it did become a bit angst-ridden. But through it all, my dear, dear husband acted as chauffeur, chef, grocery shopper, dishwasher, smoothie maker, clothes washer, housekeeper, wheelchair pusher, climber of stairs and shoulder to cry on. He did a yeoman’s job of keeping life on track for both of us and readying things at home for our trip, and I am so grateful for that.
Days until we board the Ruby Princess
Being stuck in our upstairs bedroom with my foot propped above my heart and ice behind my knee for nearly nine weeks in 2019 was different sport than it had been in the 90s. WiFi, the iPad, Netflix, Amazon Prime, ebooks, audiobooks, games, music...I lacked nothing to keep me entertained. I spent my time binge watching multiple TV series, perversely reading book after book about hiking the Appalachian Trail (Those who can, do. Those who can’t, read about it.), traveling vicariously with others through their blogs and planning our own season of cruising. Yep, I actually made some plans! Booked excursions (a very few). Applied for our Electronic Travel Authorizations (ETAs) for Australia and New Zealand. Shopped online for our trip for both G and I. And was generally very grateful that last January, weary of so many overnight flights, G suggested we start this season in Los Angeles instead of Sydney. A flight to LA is do-able at this point; a flight to Australia would not have been. As for getting home...I’ll cross that bridge when I come to it.
Our bed is a high one, and while it normally gives me no issue,
during my recovery I needed a little stool to pull myself into it.
One night the cabin steward left a gift during turn down service:
a Princess chocolate from seasons past. ;-)
Once I became partially weight bearing, I kept my spirits up by measuring my improvement in terms of simple tasks. Making a cup of coffee and carrying it to a chair. Taking my first shower (two weeks ago!). And I never thought I’d be so excited to clean, just last week, with one hand on a crutch and the other on the vacuum. I squeezed in 14 PT (that’s short for Pure Torture) visits, and have made progress, but I am leaving home dragging along boot and crutches and cane and Ace wraps and Coban and Ibuprofen. Lots of Ibuprofen. There is much rehab work yet to be done; I have pages of exercises from my physical therapist saved on my iPhone to help fill those many sea days on our transpacific cruise.
One of my first solo driving trips was in late August to watch McGee compete at his initial cross country meet of the season. He is a rock star of a runner, winning or finishing near the top of nearly every race he competes in. There was no keeping me away from that...though I've decided that cross country ranks right up there with golf as being a most crutch-unfriendly spectator sport. Ironically, basketball phenom McGuy is recovering from an injury sustained during a tournament in July and was also on crutches for a couple of weeks. What a pair we were! Our crutches were identical, but it was easy to tell them apart. Mine were the shorter ones! ;-)
Our traditional last supper this year included an early birthday celebration, too.
No more Sweet Tomatoes for them; their tastes have gone considerably upmarket.
These guys...simply the BEST!
We may have had an Aestas Horribilis, but traveling to the Southern Hemisphere gives us the perfect opportunity for a do-over. Back to back Princess cruises in one of our favorite parts of the world...I predict our second Summer of 2019 will be significantly improved.
Vita est bona. :-)